We didn’t’ take the early morning walk option the next day; soon after we woke and ate it was pack up and ship out time. Another two hours in the mokoros and an hour and a half in the safari truck and we were back at Camp Sitatunga in Maun, just long enough to settle our bar tabs and reload the truck for the drive to Gweta.
I sat up front with Colin (the driver) to escape the girls and enjoy some male company and an FHM magazine. That night we stayed in a nice campsite in Gweta, and most of us upgraded our tents to a nice cabin. In the bar before dinner I had drinks and conversation with a couple of racists.
They were the owners of the campsite, originally from South Africa, and we started up with some friendly talk about Moreton Bay Bugs which he just loved. What did raise my ire was them telling us about the “blacks”. She told us the story of how their daughter in Australia met a random woman on the bus whose daughter and friends were travelling to South Africa. Of course the campsite owner’s daughter dobbed in her own parents to offer accommodation and a base for them there. She told us frankly how when these Aussies arrived they were upset to hear terms like “the blacks” but how at the end of the trip they themselves were cussing them and using all sorts of terms themselves.
I shortly excused myself politely and went to find more wholesome company. I pondered the obvious open generosity of these people and how it contrasted such a dark streak.
It was nice to sleep in a bed for a night, and I even snored a whole lot less than in the tents apparently. It was still a late night though, and we were all up early in the morning for the drive to Kasane.